


nothing is broken

by Fireborn



Series: my sanctuary [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Melancholy, Pancakes, Post-Canon, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, healing from trauma together, it's a date but it's also a little sad, learning to cope, soft boys in love, teru teru bozu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireborn/pseuds/Fireborn
Summary: It's raining when they wake up.Normally, Riku would welcome the rain. He likes the feeling of being inside their own home while the world out there is drowning. He likes curling up on the couch and drinking hot chocolate, half-heartedly trying to stop Sora from stealing his marshmallows. Sora stroking mug-warmed fingertips down his neck. Riku wiggling his fingers underneath Sora's shirt. Sora's giggles when he brushes light, tickling touches across his sides. Cuddling for hours because there's not much else to do, just breathing and maybe talking. Maybe kissing. Definitely kissing.But today, Riku and Sora were supposed to go on a date...(Or: A melancholy alternative date with Sora and Riku dealing together in the aftermath of all they've been through; 9.5k of pancakes for breakfast, lots of cuddling and kissing, making teru teru bozu dolls and learning to cope.)





	nothing is broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homodachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homodachi/gifts), [greeneggs101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggs101/gifts).

> homodachi prompted me with the idea of a cute, fluffy one-shot of Sora and Riku making teru teru bozu dolls together on a rainy day. However, for some reason, my brain decided to create an entire backstory for the fic, which means this story turned into part of a series about Sora and Riku buying a fixer-upper on the Destiny Islands, and it also means this turned out a lot more melancholic than I originally intended.
> 
> Even though this is technically "part 2" in the series, it can also be read as a stand-alone story.
> 
> Teru teru bozu are small traditional handmade dolls made from white paper or cloth that Japanese people make and hang in the window when they want to wish for good weather.
> 
> Thanks to [foxdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdreams/pseuds/foxdreams) for the beta!! <3

It's the sound of endless raindrops against the bedroom window, an insistent steady beat, that wakes Riku from his slumber. 

These days, he rarely wakes up slowly anymore. Not like years ago, when he would slowly let himself fade out of dreams inch by inch, enjoying the lazy drag, not yet realising that it was a luxury to have the peace of mind to do so. These days, it's often with a mental kick, a reverse dream drop, eyes flying open and heart immediately racing too hard. His first instinct is to scan the room for danger, which he does in a quick but thorough sweep. His second is to brush against the edges of Sora's sleep, scanning his boyfriend's subconscious figments the way he would a party of Heartless before battle. 

When both checks come back negative (no danger, no nightmares), he tilts his head back on the pillow so he can look out through the open blinds. The world is one large grey curtain, the rain falling in sheets so thick he can't even see the paopu tree outside of their window. 

In perfect contrast to the world outside, Sora is a warm and gentle weight where he's draped across Riku's chest, one arm curled against the swell of Riku's delt, the other smushed underneath their shared pillow. He's breathing deeply, not really snoring, but the audible sound of his exhales helps to bring Riku's heart rate back down.

He sighs quietly while watching the rain fall upside down from his position, relaxing his shoulders a little against the pillow. He knows he won't sleep anymore, even though he can tell it's still too early to be awake.

Ever since they returned home from the final war, six months ago, there are days when Riku is tired in a way he'd never been before. Sometimes there's still a certain heaviness in his limbs that makes it hard to move, yet no amount of sleep seems to help. He wonders if the weariness in his body will ever fully leave again. He and Sora always go to bed early, and on good nights, he does get eight hours of sleep. Yet it's rarely enough.

It doesn't help that being Sora's dream eater is not the easiest job in the world, especially not now, after everything that has happened. Sora's dreams turn to nightmares more often than not, which means _Riku_ is jerked awake more often than not from the insistent tug, the smell of darkness, the sound of two heartbeats in tune, but both an erratic wild drum. Yet no matter how exhausting it is, Riku wouldn't have it any other way. He takes a lot of pride in the fact that Sora doesn't notice the nightmares because of _him_. Besides, they've been better, both of them. The nightmares are not as frequent or as violent as back in the beginning.

It has been a long six months, but they are both _better_ now than they were before. They have each other, that makes it bearable. They're not okay, not yet, but at least _better_.

The house they had bought and fixed up together, by the beach on one of the more secluded islands, helped too. It was Riku who had suggested going back home after the war, but in the end, it was both of them deciding they should stay. The house they bought together was their sanctuary, and Riku felt safer here now than he would anywhere else.

The sound of the rain brings him back into the moment. Normally, Riku would welcome the rain. He likes the feeling of being inside their own home while the world out there is drowning. He likes curling up on the couch and drinking hot chocolate, half-heartedly trying to stop Sora from stealing his marshmallows. Sora stroking mug-warmed fingertips down his neck. Riku wiggling his fingers underneath Sora's shirt. Sora's giggles when he brushes light, tickling touches across his sides. Cuddling for hours because there's not much else to do once they've cleaned and done the laundry and both taken hot, long showers just because they can. Just breathing and maybe some talking. Maybe kissing. Definitely kissing.

But for today, the plan was to go on a date. 

Sora has been looking forward to it, bringing it up multiple times per day with that bashful smile he has adopted since they moved in together. Sora was even the one to _suggest_ it. It was the first time in six months that Sora had shown any interest in going somewhere beyond the town on the main island. Somewhere _off-world_.

When they had first moved back to the Destiny Islands, even a trip to the store felt like an interplanetary journey, for both of them. Riku was just better at hiding it. The first time, Sora held Riku's hand the entire walk, a vice-like grip that never slackened. After a few trips, Sora got less jittery, and it was only then that Riku could unfurl the ball of anxiety in his stomach. Sora still held his hand, but the grip was more relaxed, and he'd let go occasionally to pat a stray cat or to pick flowers on the way home.

But that was months ago. Sora has come a long way since then. They both have. They still hold hands when they go to the store, but now it's for a different reason, and the touch is not laced with the same kind of desperation anymore. It's now a need to touch, to hold, to protect, to _be_. The thought that they can never be complete again _without_ this.

It was a surprise when Sora suggested that they could maybe try and use their gummiship again and visit Neverland. The words had made Riku's heart soar and then tighten, because Sora's idea for a date off-world was to see if they had recovered enough for flying on _happy _thoughts again. Riku carefully suggested that maybe Corona or Twilight Town would have been better suited for a date, but Sora was adamant about it.

_I need to know, okay? I just do._

And Riku understood, of course, and brushed a hand through Sora's hair; let Sora tug himself underneath Riku's chin, ear to heartbeat.

_Okay, Sora. We'll go._

Riku never could deny Sora anything.

He just wishes he could will this rain away, the way he used to try when he was five years old, and Sora wanted to go to the park, but they weren't allowed outside. Both of them staring out the window, blowing at the clouds to try and whisk them away and reveal blue skies again. It didn't work then, and he's not five anymore. He knows it won't work now, the magic he possesses thirteen years later powerful, but not made to control the weather.

In that moment, Sora stirs against him. Riku feels Sora curling his left leg tighter around his, using it as leverage to pull himself even closer to Riku's body heat. Sora sighs a little, a happy little sound as he nuzzles against Riku's shirt. Sora still has his slow drift back into consciousness, something Riku is very thankful for. 

He doesn't want to break the peace and quiet. Sora's soft, unresisting body means he's not yet noticed the weather, or realised the implications of it. He debates whether or not to speak up, but he doesn't have the heart, really. It seems so unfair, that the world will not even grant them _this_. So he waits, running a gentle hand up and down Sora’s back, until Sora wakes up enough to speak.

“It's raining,” finally comes the mumble into his chest.

“Yeah,” Riku confirms around the lump in his throat.

“Hmmm,” Sora replies, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Riku's shirt. 

“I'm sorry.”

At that, Sora lifts his head off of Riku's chest, his face slack still with sleep, a confused frown wrinkling his forehead. “Sorry?”

“The gummiship is hidden on the play island,” Riku says softly. “It'll be impossible to reach with this weather.”

Sora's eyes widen, and then his entire face falls. It's like watching clouds drift across the sun. “Oh no...”

Riku watches as tears pool in Sora's azure eyes, making them seem even larger. His heart clenches in his chest, and he reaches out to cup Sora's cheeks. 

“I know how much you were looking forward to it,” he says softly, rubbing his thumbs across the soft, thin skin underneath Sora's eyes. Tears fall onto his hands, hot splashes across the back of his fingers.

“I'm sorry,” Sora says on a hiccup, eyes downcast. “I don't know why I'm crying. It's stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” Riku shakes his head fervently, feels his hair brushing across his cheeks with the vigor of the movement. “You're allowed to feel sad. You're allowed to cry.”

“Not about _this_,” Sora says, so softly that Riku needs to strain to hear him.

“_Also about this_.” He slides his hands into Sora's hair, raises his head to press their foreheads together. “About _anything_.”

Sora doesn't reply, but he presses his eyes shut, causing more tears to spill over. Riku's stomach muscles strain with the way he's lifting his head, so he slides his arms down, carding them through Sora's hair, across the back of his neck, feels Sora's tiny shudder, and then wraps them tightly across Sora's chest. When Riku tugs, Sora follows willingly.

“It's okay, Sora,” he whispers as Sora tucks his head underneath Riku's chin. “We can do something else instead.”

“I wanted to see if we were happy enough to fly now..." Sora says, his body shuddering with a sob, his voice muted from where it’s pressed into Riku's shirt again. “Well, not like this, I can't.”

Riku feels his own eyes sting, wishing there was something he could say or do to make this _better_. But he has learned by now that what works best is just holding Sora tight, letting him cry all his tears and whispering over and over again that he's okay. That he's good. That nothing can hurt them anymore.

When Sora finally stills against him, Riku raises a hand to thread through his hair, gently smoothing out some of the sleep tangles. “Do you remember what we used to do on rainy weekend days when we were little?”

Sora lifts his head, leaning into Riku's touch for a long moment. Then he shifts his arms to either side of Riku's shoulders so he can lift himself up on his elbows. “We used to play pirates up in my attic? We play fought for hours with our wooden swords.”

That's actually not what Riku meant, but it's another good memory. He chuckles softly, nodding. “In the end, you lost your footage and stumbled into that antique vase in the corner.”

At that, Sora gives him a watery smile. He takes a deep breath, his entire body once more shuddering against Riku's as he exhales. This time, no more sobs follow. “I remember.”

Something softens in Riku at seeing Sora's smile, and he lets out another chuckle, his fingers still softly scraping against Sora's scalp. “We went out into the pouring rain to bury the shards in the backyard.”

“We hid them underneath our shirts, and we had to hold them there. So we couldn’t put on our jackets like that.” Some of the sparkle returns to Sora's eyes as he rolls them up to look at the ceiling for a moment. "We were covered in mud after. My mum put us into the shower with all our clothes still on.”

“She did,” Riku thinks back to the moment, smiling wistfully at one of the hundreds, thousands of things they did together as kids. “Let's not do that today, though. I was actually thinking of something else.”

Riku’s hand drops to the mattress when Sora pushes himself up completely, disentangling their legs as he sits back on his knees. The mattress dips a little where Sora's knees now press into it, and Riku shivers at the cold air as the covers follow Sora's movement. Sora's positively beaming now, though, so it's worth it. 

“Oh, I know!”

Riku grins.

“We made teru teru bozu dolls!”

“We did.” Riku pulls the covers back up up around them both as best as he can. “Maybe it'll make the sun come out. And we can go to Neverland some other day.”

Sora nods, smiling, his tears forgotten. Then his stomach rumbles, and his smile turns sheepish. 

“Breakfast first?” 

Riku sits up so suddenly that Sora has to throw out a hand to Riku's chest to keep his balance. But before Riku can do more, Sora pushes with a surprising amount of force, guiding Riku back down towards the mattress.

“I’ll make us pancakes. You sleep some more.” Sora leans down to press warm, wet lips to his. It's chaste, and Riku reads it for the thank you it is. When Sora pulls away, Riku licks across his lips and tastes tears. He swallows.

He’s pretty sure he won’t sleep more, and he doesn’t believe pancakes make the healthiest breakfast, but he doesn’t have the heart to say either thing. “Okay.”

Sora’s out of the bed before Riku can blink. He curls onto his side, watching Sora stumble to the chair his clothes are haphazardly thrown over. Sora hops around the room on one leg, trying to pull his sweatpants on. Then he takes Riku’s hoodie from where it’s carefully folded on the dresser next to the chair. It's Riku's favourite, a stupid hoodie from the Destiny Islands tourist information stand that he bought when he was out in town in just a t-shirt and he got cold. It's magenta (Sora calls it _pink_, no matter how often Riku tries to correct him) with a white paopu tree on the front, the words _Destiny Islands_ scribbled across the back in an elegant font.

With the hoodie pressed to his chest, Sora gives Riku a look over his shoulder that's somehow both timid and brash. Riku has never figured out how Sora manages to go from one emotion to the other so quickly. He can be crying, or staring wistfully into the distance, but then a second later he has a thought or hears a bird chirping, and the sun comes out on his face again. Or his coy smile is back, the one Riku would do _anything_ to see, again and again.

“Yes, Sora,” he answers to Sora's unasked question, eyes rolling in fond exasperation. But he's only kidding himself, because in the grand scheme of things, getting his second-favourite sweater out of the closet to wear isn't even in the top one hundred of Riku's “All the things I would do for Sora” list.

Sora slips the hoodie over his head, and Riku can't help the smile that spreads across his face. The one that only Sora gets to see. The hoodie is, of course, way too big for Sora's slender frame. He has to haphazardly roll up the sleeves to be able to see his hands, and the hemline reaches halfway down his thighs. Sora has been wearing Riku's shirts and sweaters for months, ever since realising that the smell and feel of them help him feel better. But seeing Sora in his clothes makes _Riku_ feel better too, so it's a win-win.

Suddenly Riku realises that Sora's been staring, and he blinks.

Sora crosses his arms in front of his chest, honestly pouting. “I _said_, do you want chocolate or blueberry?”

“Oh,” Riku holds out a hand to him, palm up. “Blueberry.”

Sora skids over to grab his hand and Riku pulls him close so he can wrap Sora in a tight hug once more. Sora whines out a breathy _Rikuuuuuu_ as he wriggles against him, but Riku can hear the grin in his voice. Before Sora pulls away again, he presses another kiss to Riku's lips, one Riku is quick to deepen. He makes a little grumbling sound at the intuitive tilt of Sora's head, the softness of their tongues sliding against each other, Sora's mewl as Riku licks across the roof of his mouth. Riku's hands slide underneath the sweater, finding the bare skin underneath effortlessly, and Sora melts against him.

Then he seems to find his resolve and pulls back, pouting again. “Don't distract me. I need to feed you, we need energy for our date.”

Before Riku can say that making out for hours could _totally_ be a date, Sora has wriggled out of his embrace and darts out of the room, and Riku is left with his own thoughts, half-dozing, half-pondering until Sora reappears half an hour later, balancing a tray in one hand as he opens the door with the other.

“Tada,” he says proudly as Riku rolls over and sits back against the headboard on his side of the bed.

Riku knows Sora can cook, of course, and cook _well_, but he still gets distracted sometimes. Sometimes by his memories, sometimes just because he's _Sora_, and Sora has always had trouble focusing on more than one thing at a time. It wouldn't be the first time something got burned or set on fire in the kitchen. Riku's glad that things seem to have gone well this time, and that Sora has managed to dodge Murphy's law today. Maybe they'd manage to turn this day around after all.

Sora sets the tray down on Riku's lap, sliding back in under the covers himself. The tray has a plate of blueberry pancakes, two mugs of coffee (one black, and one with milk and what Riku knows to be an ungodly amount of sugar) and a bottle of syrup. 

Sora presses closer to Riku's side as he settles in, reaching for the syrup. Riku grabs his coffee cup as he watches Sora pour nearly half the bottle over the stack of pancakes.

He huffs. “I thought we'd agreed coffee wasn't a good idea for you.”

Sora turns to grin at him. “That was before we were making teru teru bozu dolls. Now I need all my energy for that.”

Riku stares, one eyebrow raised. “I'm not sure that's true.”

“I make you pancakes, and you reward me by doubting me?” Sora's grin turns wider as he tears a corner from the top pancake.

“Caffeine and sugar,” Riku says, shaking his head a little, smiling on purpose because he needs Sora to see he's teasing. “This is gonna be a great day.”

Their banter has gone softer after everything, the rough edges now only rarely traced. It's hard, sometimes, to figure out what goes over well and what makes Sora draw in on himself, and Riku has a tendency to overthink it. So, the softness is good for now. Maybe one day, they'll be able to really rile each other up again, and Sora's real brattiness and Riku's true snark will return. Maybe it won't.

“You're right, Riku,” Sora says, deliberately ignoring the taunt. “It _is_ gonna be a great day.”

He lifts the syrup-covered pancake piece to Riku's mouth, and Riku opens his mouth automatically. Sora pushes pancake and fingers into his mouth, and Riku knows he deliberately grazes a sticky thumb across Riku's chin as he pulls his hand away. The look on Sora's face is triumphant, his eyes gleeful in their sparkle.

Riku chews slowly, lazily letting his lips curl up into a smirk. Watches as Sora's eyes darken just a little, watches the very visible swallow.

Their competitive streak has changed into _this_ now, most of all. Staring competitions are safe, and more fun when the air is charged with an electricity they're both still getting used to.

Riku swallows his pancake, deliberately swipes a tongue across his bottom lip, and watches in amusement when Sora breaks almost immediately and looks away. He's definitely smirking now, but he figures he's earned the right.

Sora huffs. “Not fair.”

Riku laughs as he reaches for the pancakes, tearing a large piece off for Sora. Sora’s eyes snap back to his, and they hold each other’s gaze as Riku holds it out, just out of reach. Sora open his mouth wide, but Riku keeps his hand still.

He watches, amused, as Sora's eyebrows draw together and the seconds tick by. Then Sora's stomach grumbles, breaking the moment, and Sora leans forward to snatch the pancake from between his fingers with a deft movement of his tongue. Riku knows he's smiling fondly now, but he can't help it. It's just the effect Sora has on him.

As soon as Sora swallows, Riku leans forward to kiss him. It’s messy and sticky, and Sora’s mouth is so _sweet_ and hot that Riku can't stop the little sigh from escaping him. He trails fingers to the back of Sora's neck, curling underneath the magenta hoodie, revels in Sora's little shiver, the ways he presses closer, his answering sigh.

“Riku…"

Riku hums, barely pulling away with a little smack.

“I really am hungry,” Sora murmurs, but he presses his lips to Riku's again anyway.

“What's stopping you?” Riku says between kisses.

“You, you sap,” Sora groans exaggeratedly. “Can't even eat pancakes in peace around you.” 

Riku laughs as he pulls away for real this time, gesturing towards the plate on the tray. “After you, sir.”

Sora grabs what's left of the top pancake, still dripping with syrup, and devours it in three bites. Riku takes the next one, because while he will eat anything Sora puts in front of him, Sora will never convince him pancakes need more toppings and sugar to taste good.

They eat in silence, listening to the neverending pitter-patter of raindrops outside. Sora eats four of the pancakes, Riku two. Riku doesn't really understand how he's the only one of them that does any exercise now, but still _Sora_ is the one who eats the most. Where Riku is never really hungry anymore, Sora _always_ is, his body catching up after years of expending every single calorie it consumed and more.

After Sora finishes the last pancake, he licks his fingers, one after the other, with a glint in his eyes that's cheeky and says that he knows _exactly_ what that gesture is doing to Riku's stomach. Riku debates if he can risk finishing the last of his coffee to pretend he’s not affected by this, but he’s too afraid he’ll actually choke on it. When Sora pulls the last finger out of his mouth, he's smirking, and Riku shakes his head.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love me anyway,” Sora says.

“Always.”

Riku brushes a hand through the unruly chocolate bangs, blinking a little when his hand comes back sticky. 

“I think you've got syrup in your hair.”

Sora brings up a hand of his own to pat across his head. “Oh, yeah.” 

“What do you mean, ‘oh yeah’. How did you get _syrup _in your _hair_?”

“Ugh, now my hand is sticky again,” Sora says in his best whiny voice.

Riku just looks at him. 

“Oh, you're saying this is _my_ fault?” Sora pouts and narrows his eyes in a way that has Riku biting his lip to stop from laughing. 

“I'm not saying anything. I'm wisely keeping my mouth shut.”

When Sora bounces on the bed in reply, nearly tipping over the tray and its contents, Riku rolls his eyes. He knew the coffee and pancakes would lead to this. He'd need to get Sora to work off some of this excess energy.

He takes the tray and sets it down next to the bed, and Sora bounces a little more. 

“Can we make the dolls now?”

Riku tilts his head, squinting a little. “You really think you can sit still that long after all that sugar and caffeine?”

Sora sits up straight, folding back the covers before turning to Riku. “Yes.”

But of course he can’t. Sora bounces again, the movement so wild now that Riku is jostled on the bed. Riku shakes his head. “I don’t believe—"

He’s cut off when Sora pounces, both hands on Riku's shoulders, all but launching himself into Riku's lap. Sora then brushes a sticky hand across Riku's neck.

"Don't believe what, Riku?" 

"That you ever play fair," Riku grumbles, but his hands immediately move to Sora’s waist, bunching up the hoodie to feel that warm, soft skin under his fingers again. Brushes a thumb across Sora’s hip bones, fingers digging into the dip of his spine. Sora shivers against him, tilting his head back, and Riku leans forward to press his lips to the pulse point. He hums against the skin, then licks a long swipe up to his ear before he pulls away. 

"I play fair," Sora says, in a low voice. "You, on the other hand…" He shivers again as Riku's hands wander up across his sides, a full-body tremor that makes him tip his head forward again, forehead coming to rest against Riku's shoulder. Riku soothes touches up and down the skin, bumping over muscle and ribs, and Sora won't stop trembling against him.

"Riku…"

"Yes?" 

"I love it when you do that." Sora's voice is so earnest, the words spoken without any second thoughts. It's so _Sora_ that Riku can't help but tug him closer, palms flat against the skin on either side of his spine.

Sora's arms slide around his shoulders, and when Riku's hands move to his sides again, Sora squirms as he giggles, trying to find Riku's mouth for another kiss. Riku indulges him, of course, the kiss lazy and slow. Sora whines, a tiny sound barely audible over the rain that turns into an even tinier moan, and Riku tightens his grip, fingers flexing tenderly against Sora's back.

Maybe more kissing will help Sora get rid of his excess energy… 

But then Sora shifts his legs, pressing socked feet flat against the headboard for leverage as he lets himself fall backwards onto his back, pulling Riku with him, on top of him.

Riku cages him against the bunched up covers and the mattress. Sora likes it when Riku uses his larger frame to hide him from the world. This was something Riku figured out right after moving in together, the very first time they got into the double bed together. Sora shifted and tugged, restless, until Riku’s entire body covered him, Riku’s arms around his shoulders, his legs on either side of Sora’s, and Sora completely relaxed below him. Riku had been afraid to _breathe_, terrified his weight would crush Sora, but Sora just pulled them tighter together.

The way he does now. Sora’s arms wrap around him, and Sora giggles, a little out of breath. Riku looks at him, wonders as he always does how he gets to have this. Sora saved him, in every possible way. Riku knows he can’t ever again live without him, without Sora's boundless devotion, the love that he always just gives and gives, even when his eyes are wet and his lips are trembling, even when Riku gets lost in memories, even when they’re _both_ too tired to even get out of bed. Sora's love is always there. 

Riku kisses him to stop the tears from appearing. He never cried when he was in the darkness, and he never cried when he was torn away from Sora again and again. He never cried after they moved in here, not even when he _wished_ for the tears to come, so maybe they would take with them some of the heart-wrenching ache in his chest. 

But Sora’s smile, Sora’s words, everything _Sora_ always makes his eyes sting.

When he pulls away, Sora’s not as relaxed anymore. Riku only has a split second to feel Sora tensing his muscles before the world spins, and he finds himself on his back, Sora straddling him. He gasps in shock, opens his eyes to a flash of magenta. But then warm hands slip down his biceps, his elbows, to take his hands, fingers effortlessly slipping together.

“Hey…" There’s concern in Sora’s voice, for some reason.

Then Riku feels the tear tracks down his temples. “Oh…"

“Riku…"

“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s just…" He swallows, tightens his grip on Sora’s hands. “It’s just you.”

Sora’s face goes soft, blue eyes deepening with understanding, and his next inhale is a shudder. There's a heartbeat where Sora's smile turns wistful, but it's gone so fast Riku nearly doubts it was there at all. Then he dives down, pressing his lips to the side of Riku's neck, lips no longer sticky, but now wet and a little kiss-swollen. 

It's Riku's turn to shiver, and he's torn between dissolving into the sheets below and tensing up because that _tickles_. Before he can decide, though, he feels Sora purse his lips, a wet tongue pressed against his neck and then hears and _feels _the rumbling sound echo inside of him. Air flows across his skin and everything _tingles_.

He can handle the blown raspberry, though barely, but when Sora slides warm fingers underneath his shirt, gently drawing over the soft skin of his stomach, Riku arches his back in an attempt to pull away. Sora's fingers follow, a teasing stroke towards his waist, and Riku can't take it anymore.

He shoves at Sora's shoulder, who laughs and goes willingly where Riku pushes. 

They roll over. Riku is physically stronger, but Sora makes up for it in pure determination and an endless amount of energy. He squirms out of Riku's hold once more, bumping Riku's arm out from underneath him with his head.

But really, two can play this game, so Riku grabs him by the hoodie as Sora rolls away, hugging him from behind as he wraps his arms around Sora's waist. They're both on their sides, and Riku pulls a struggling Sora flush against the front of his body, hands easily finding their way to Sora's now exposed stomach where the hoodie has bunched up. 

"Ri-ku," Sora gasps, wiggling, and Riku has to strain to keep Sora from slipping away. "Ah, don't! You know I—" He dissolves into a fit of giggles. 

"Do you give up?" Riku blows across his ear, and Sora arches back against him, wildly but not entirely unexpected.

But then Sora kicks back frantically, connecting with Riku's shin. Not hard, but enough to loosen Riku's hold on him enough for Sora to get away. Sora turns around in a flash, pouncing again; struggling to pin Riku beneath him in a tangle of legs and arms and hips. 

They half-heartedly struggle for the top position, laughing too much to do anything with real force, rolling over and over, nearly knocking against the headboard. In the end, Sora ends up on top, their hip bones pressing together just on the right side of painful. Sora has one leg wrapped around Riku’s in an attempt to pin him down.

“I win,” Sora smirks, eyes flashing as he sweeps across Riku’s face, shifting with lightning speed to pin Riku’s wrists to the mattress. 

And Riku would do anything for Sora. Really. _Anything_. 

Apart from letting Sora win a play wrestling match.

He bucks up, making their hips collide, and Sora gasps, eyes widening. Before he can recover, Riku has him on his back again. Sora kicks his feet, rocking up in an effort to throw Riku off, but Riku presses down harder, holding him down with hands against his waist, slender even when dwarfed by the oversized hoodie. Sora squirms, almost breaking free, but before he can, Riku slides the hands underneath the hoodie, brushing wiggling fingertips across his abdomen.

“Aaahhh, Riku, no hahaha—" Sora gasps, flailing his arms, but he’s laughing so hard he lacks any real force behind the movement.

“Do you give up?”

Sora’s just laughing, wasting all his oxygen on drawing in desperate, ragged breaths. “No, no, Ri-kuuuu.”

Sora tries to arch away from his touch, but Riku’s relentless. Fingers brushing from abdomen to his rib cage, gently skating across Sora’s lower ribs.

“Okay, ahhh,” Sora bucks up, trying to find the space to turn over, but Riku won’t let him.

“What’s that, Sora?” He barely lets up.

“Okay,” Sora giggles, breathless with laughter, his voice rough. “Okay, you win.”

Riku stills his hands, cupping Sora’s waist again as he leans closer. “Hmmm? I don't think I heard that?”

Sora throws back his head with a groan as if he's dying. “I told you, you don’t play fair.”

Riku leans in, their faces inches apart when Sora tilts his head forward again. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a complete mess, and he's shaking. They’re both breathing hard, and the electricity in their little bubble is so powerful that he can almost hear it crackling.

“But you love me anyway,” Riku breathes, his heart a wild animal in his chest. He trusts Sora beyond life, his heart has been Sora's to hold since forever. Sora has never let him down. The words he spoke shouldn't have scared him. But irrationally, sometimes there’s a tiny voice at the back of his head telling him that one day Sora could say no and destroy him.

“Yeah.” Sora smiles, slow and intimate, eyes soft like a deer’s, and Riku's nerves dissolve. “Always.”

The kiss is tender, Sora’s hands tangling in his hair, Riku’s arms around Sora's shoulders. Riku's lips part and then both of them breathe tiny gasps into each other's mouths. The taste of blueberries and sugar and coffee and _Sora_ shatters Riku all over again.

He wants Sora closer, _closer_, he's aching for it. He feels dizzy, like all the oxygen is sucked from his lungs. The rain is still relentlessly pounding against the window, but it's no longer a miserable thing, it somehow adds to the feeling of _safe_ and _home _and _close_. He lets Sora roll them over once again.

“I think,” Sora says when he pulls away with a wet smacking sound, sitting up, smiling. “We should make some teru teru bozu dolls now.”

So Riku gets dressed as Sora takes the tray downstairs, and when Riku joins him there, Sora is already seated at the kitchen table. The fruit bowl and the candles have been cleared away, and Sora is cutting up an old white sheet with a pair of scissors. He is sitting with his legs folded below him on one of the kitchen chairs, his tongue stuck between his teeth as he carefully cuts out medium-sized white squares. 

Riku comes up behind him and he can’t help it, he strokes a hand across Sora’s hair, trying to bring some order to the hopeless spikes. Sora never seems to be bothered by it, he never brushes his hair more than once every few days. Riku curls his fingers into the soft strands at the back as he bends down to press his forehead against Sora’s shoulder.

Images flash before his eyes, two little kids, side by side on kitchen chairs, barely reaching above the table. Sora’s mum cutting up an old bedsheet as they watched with shining wide eyes and excitement, Sora practically vibrating as he bounced up and down in his seat.

_“Patience, Sora,” his mum said. “Good things come to those who wait.”_

_“I don’t wanna wait,” Sora said, reaching for the piece she just cut off. “Riku never makes me wait.”_

_His mum chuckled. “Riku spoils you.”_

_Sora turned to look at Riku, tilting his head. “Spoils?”_

_“It means Riku's very kind to you.”_

_Sora beamed, and Riku could never answer that look on Sora's face with anything but a smile of his own. _

_“Yes,” Sora said emphatically, nodding seriously. “Riku is always very kind.”_

Modern day Sora turns his head, pressing a kiss to Riku’s temple. “What're you thinking of?”

“You, always.”

Sora smiles, a little bashfully, all for him.

With a final brush through Sora’s hair, Riku untangles himself from Sora and sits down on the chair next to him. He watches Sora cut the cloth carefully, and absentmindedly reaches for the green string and the coloured markers Sora laid out on the table.

Without exception, Riku cherishes every moment with Sora. It doesn’t matter if they’re sad or happy, soft or frantic, he soaks it all up. Every smile and every tear, all the times they didn’t have the words to express how they were feeling, all the times they _did_. Riku would take a lifetime of being sad together over spending even a month apart from each other. 

But out of all the moments, the ones where they sit together in companionable silence, no words necessary, that's when everything inside of him truly lets go.

He holds out his hand and Sora gives him the piece of cloth he's been cutting. Riku delicately curls it into a ball-shaped head. Right as he's finished doing that, Sora finishes cutting the next cloth, so Riku holds out his hand again and Sora places a new piece in it.

With careful hands, he wraps the new piece around the head, twisting it a little to tie the ball he just made up in the second piece of fabric.

He holds it out to Sora. “You wanna do the honours?”

“Sure!” Sora reaches over the table for a piece of green string, tying it just under the ball, completing the doll.

Riku hands it out to Sora, who gently takes it with both hands. He grabs the markers and starts with green for the eyes, then red for the mouth. Sora’s tongue is between his lips again, sliding from side to side as he squints in concentration.

Riku watches him for long moments, unable to keep the smile off his face. Sora getting lost in a world of his own is not that unusual; hadn’t been even when they were kids. Sora sometimes had the ability to get so focused on one thing that everything around him just disappeared. It’s a joy to watch him like this, his face unguarded in rapt attention, so focused on what he's doing.

Sora reaches for the grey marker next, carefully starting on strands of hair for the doll, and Riku’s smile grows fonder still.

_They were older this time, ten and eleven. They should have been sleeping, but instead they were sitting cross-legged on Riku’s bed, both in their pajamas. Sora was staying the night, and Riku had suggested a competition to see who could stay awake the longest. Sora was blinking a little too fast, yawning every few minutes, and Riku smirked a little because he was _totally_ winning this competition._

_“We should make teru teru bozu dolls,” Sora announced out of the blue._

_For a second, the thought that maybe he was getting too old for making dolls flashed through him, but Sora looked at him with softened puppy eyes, yawned again, and Riku realised he was unable to say no. Still, he didn’t want to give in _immediately.

_“It's not raining. Why would we need teru teru bozu?”_

_“Becaaauuuuuse, Riku,” Sora sing-sang, shifting to sit on his knees. “Kairi told me if you hang them upside down, they'll bring rain.”_

_Intrigued, Riku leaned closer. Sora struggled to keep his eyes from drooping closed for a second, forcing them wide open instead. “Why do you want it to rain?”_

_“Cos I don't wanna go to school on Monday!”_

_Riku tilted his head, pondering this for a moment. They were gonna have to go to school even if it rained, they’d just get _wet. _But he didn’t have the heart to tell Sora this, and when Sora jumped off the bed, soft footsteps padding towards the box with crafting supplies, Riku followed. Really, he wasn’t even surprised. He'd known for years that he would do anything Sora wanted._

_They both made a doll, sitting next to each other on Riku's bedroom floor in the moonlight, before Sora’s eyes fell closed completely and he collapsed sideways into Riku. _

_Riku shifted, an arm around Sora's shoulders, then carefully lowered him to the floor. He padded back to the bed to pull off the blankets and pillow. Gently, he lifted Sora’s head to place it gently upon the pillow, then curled up behind him, pulling the blanket over them both. Winning meant he got to fall asleep with Sora, warm and solid and out like a light, in his arms. It was the best prize ever._

“Look!” Sora holds up the doll, and Riku blinks, realising he’s spaced out again. “It’s you!”

It’s…well, it’s close enough, Riku muses as he takes in the green eyes and the silver-grey hair Sora has drawn. 

“I can see the resemblance," he smiles, and Sora beams.

Carefully, Sora cuts out a few more pieces, and Riku starts working on a second doll. He decides to make this one himself, grabbing the blue and brown markers from the stash at Sora’s side of the table.

When he bows his head to work on drawing the doll’s face, strands of silver fall into his eyes. He absentmindedly brushes them away, but he might as well not have bothered, since they just fall forwards again. He’s vaguely aware of Sora reaching for something next to him, but the curtain of hair prevents him from seeing exactly what he’s doing. When Riku is done with the large blue eyes and moves on to brown spiky hair, he feels gentle hands pulling his hair back, fingers carding through it multiple times to draw all the strands together into a messy ponytail. 

When Sora finishes, deft, practised fingers tie the string around the hair. 

"Much better," Sora says with a kiss to the top of his head. 

Riku tilts his head back, smiles at Sora upside down, and Sora kisses his nose, then his mouth, a tender, lingering press of lips. 

After Sora sits back down, Riku draws a smiling red mouth on the teru teru bozu. When he’s done, he hands the doll to Sora. There’s an anxious rushing in his ears, but Sora takes the doll with eager hands. 

“It’s me!”

Sora holds the Sora doll in his left hand and grabs the Riku doll in his right, bringing them together in a pretend-battle. It's a near-exact replica of their play wrestling on the bed from earlier. 

“No, Riku! You’re not allowed to tickle me," he says in a high voice.

Riku leans back in his chair, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“Sora, you should know by now I don’t play fair!” Sora says in a deep voice, and Riku laughs.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Hush,” Sora says. “You do.” Then he continues in his high pretend-Sora voice. “But I love you, Riku, why are you _torturing_ me?”

“Sora…"

Engrossed in his play, Sora moves the teru teru bozu dolls around as if they're a set of action figures, spinning them around each other, rolling them over on the table, making them wrestle for dominance. 

_Sora was twelve, and he still played with his stuffed animals. Since as long as they could both remember, Sora's favourite was a big lion, larger than his head, with a mane as wild as Sora’s own hair. The lion was called Riku, because he was brave and strong._

_Riku was thirteen, which was too old to play with stuffed toys, even with his favourite, and even if his and Sora’s favourites played together every day, the way Sora and Riku played together every day. Riku's stuffed wolf was slightly smaller than Sora’s lion. He didn’t have a real name, he was just called Wolf, because that had made perfect sense to 4-year-old Riku._

_But Sora had almost cried when Riku told him that thirteen-year-olds couldn’t play with stuffed animals anymore. When he had opened the closet door to hide Wolf on the back of the bottom shelf, Sora held out his hands. _

_“Riku! He’ll be sad and lonely in there.” Sora’s eyes were distraught and he was biting his lip. “Please, let me look after him…”_

_So instead of hiding his favourite toy in his closet, Riku gently placed it in Sora’s extended arms. _

_After that, whenever Riku went over to Sora’s place after school, Sora made the stuffed lion and wolf play together. He'd make them playfight a little, flying and jumping through the air, then chasing after imaginary dragons together. In the end, Riku would be drawn in, the way he always was when Sora started making up stories. Sora handed him Wolf._

_“He misses you.”_

_Riku swallowed, but didn’t reply._

_“But it’s okay, cos you’re here now. Now Wolf and Riku can go on an adventure again.”_

_“Yeah,” Riku said, barely above a whisper. “Where are they going?”_

_“They’re hungry. Today’s adventure is a long and scary journey towards the cookie jar on top of the fridge!”_

_Sora stood quickly, one arm clenched around his lion, the other one reaching out to pull Riku up. Riku stared at the extended hand for a moment, shaking his head before taking it._

With a start, Riku realises Sora has stilled the dolls in their playfight, and is looking at him with a mournful face, his lower lip wobbling. Riku looks away, eyes trained on the cut pieces of cloth lying haphazardly around the tabletop.

“Hey,” Sora whispers, and Riku wishes his hair wasn’t tied back so he could hide his face behind a curtain of silver. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry…” 

“No, don’t _say_ that,” Sora says vehemently. He stands up, the chair scraping across the floor tiles with a sound that makes the hairs on Riku’s arm rise. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

Sora presses his foot against Riku’s chair, and Riku gets the hint, pushing it back so Sora can slide into his lap. The movement distracts him, because his automatic response is to wrap his arms around Sora’s waist, around the hoodie, pulling them closer together. Sora in Riku's clothes makes Riku feel a special kind of warmth, and the feel of him, soft and comfortable and so familiar underneath his palms, is like the air in his lungs after a long dive into the ocean. 

Sora catches his eye and smiles hesitantly, a little wistfully, but still bright enough to make Riku's heart swell a little. Seated like this, they are precisely at eye level.

It's _too much_, the rush of emotions bright and hot and overwhelming. Sora is everything to him, his best friend, his light and darkness, his redemption, his sanctification. He's everything Riku desires in the world they've saved, over and over.

Riku leans forwards to bury his face in the curve of Sora’s neck, breathing in his soft skin, the smell of orange laundry detergent.

There are so many things Riku regrets in his life, and he wishes he wouldn’t remember them all so vividly. The way he let outside voices twist the love he felt for Sora, the way he let the darkness in because he lost sight of his light. So much time wasted, so many dreams lost, all those lives lost to darkness... 

He inhales deeply. There's nothing to be gained from thoughts like this. He knows this, he tells himself every day. _Sora_ tells him every day, and if nothing else, he believes that, because he believes in Sora.

He pulls back and gives a shaky, rueful smile, and he tries not to be sorry, for Sora. It's not his fault. It seems to work, because Sora’s mouth curves up again. “That’s better.”

For a few moments, Sora looks at the dolls still in his hands. Then he glances up to make sure Riku is paying attention, an unexpectedly playful gleam in his eyes. His gaze drops again, and smashes the doll’s faces together while making little kissing noises. 

"Ah, Riku, hmmm," Sora says in his pretend high Sora-voice, before dropping two octaves for his Riku-voice. "I love you, Sora."

Riku can't help himself, an amused huff escapes his throat. “That’s also _not_ what I sound like.”

Sora leans lightly into him, cradling the dolls to his chest. Riku tugs him closer, and they meet in the middle for a kiss. It's chaste, nothing more than a gentle, close-mouthed press of lips, and Riku sighs as he moves his hand to slide it against Sora's cheek. Unexpected tension leaves him in a long wave. To his surprise, his breath hitches on a small sob.

“You do sound like that,” Sora murmurs when he pulls away. “And I love you too.”

Riku feels himself blush all the way to his ears.

“Come on!" Sora exclaims, changing the subject so fast Riku is left reeling. "We should hang these two up before we make more.”

The rain is still falling heavily, collecting in ever-growing muddy puddles in the grass of the yard, but the covered porch is still dry. Riku holds one of the wooden rocking chairs steady while Sora stands on it to hang up the teru teru bozu dolls. They’re on the same piece of string, so they dangle and sway close together.

“There!” Sora exclaims, jumping back down and moving to Riku’s side. “That’s bound to bring out the sun soon.”

Riku takes his hand, and they look out at the neverending rain for a few more long moments before making their way back inside.

The slow vibe of the morning returns while they make more dolls. Riku draws black ears, black eyes and a black nose to make a Mickey one, then dark red hair and bright blue eyes for a Kairi. Sora makes a Donald and a Goofy, both with black eyes and grinning mouths. 

With a soft smile, Riku reaches over to take the finished Goofy doll, stroking over the long ears and the pair of glasses Sora has drawn on top of the head. “They're very good.”

Sora's answering smile is honest and just as soft.

After that, Sora starts working on a doll with fiery red hair and bright green eyes, and Riku watches as he crafts something in great detail on the doll's body that looks like a staff full of red flames.

“Oh,” Riku says, surprised when he realises what Sora is drawing. “It’s a…”

It's the first time in six months he’s seen a keyblade, Riku realises all of a sudden. 

The thought makes him freeze for a long moment, eyes turning inward, unseeing. He's back on a battlefield, his own keyblade in hand, slashing, maiming, _killing_. There's black ooze flying around them, strands of darkness reaching out, curling, _claiming_.

With a gasp, Riku shakes himself and looks up, checking Sora carefully for any reaction. But Sora's so engrossed in decorating the doll that he doesn't seem to realise that even a mention of the word _keyblade_ used to make him stare off into space not too long ago.

“All done!” Sora says, proudly setting the Axel doll next to the others.

“Do you think we’ll ever…" Riku says before he stops himself. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, not again. They were both so peaceful a moment ago... “Never mind.”

Sora is looking at him with a dark, intense gaze, and Riku shivers. Sora's face goes sharp. “You can ask me.”

Riku feels his fingers start to curl into a fist, but Sora shifts forwards to the tip of his chair, slides his hands into Riku’s before the fists are fully formed. He closes his eyes, feeling the beginnings of familiar panic surge up. It always hits him unexpectedly. Everytime he starts to feel like himself again, something happens, or a thought enters his mind, and he feels like he’s all the way back at square one. He hates it. 

“_Ask me_.”

It’s a command, despite Sora's compassionate, soft tone, and somehow, it brings him back to himself.

“Do you think we’ll ever summon our keyblades again? Fight with them?”

When Riku opens his eyes, he is met by a look of infinite tenderness on Sora’s face. Sora is closer than he expected, warm and familiar, and immediately he feels his heart calm.

“Do you want to?” Sora counters the question with his own.

Riku pauses and forces himself to think about this. He feels raw, stretched out, vulnerable beyond words. Sora is stroking his thumbs across the back of Riku’s hands and he clings to the sensation, the touch sparking something desperate and _good_ inside of him. 

And he remembers. He remembers all the Heartless he's slain, the lives he saved. He remembers sealing keyholes, he remembers grateful smiles and shaking hands. He remembers raising his keyblade with everything he had, to protect what matters.

He smiles.

“Maybe,” he says, earnestly. “Someday. But not yet.”

“Yeah,” Sora nods. “Someday, we'll be ready again.”

Their foreheads touch, familiar and steady, and this close Riku catches another whiff of orange and _Sora_. Maybe it's his imagination, but the rain seems to have turned into a lighter drizzle. Sora's eyes are wide and bright and _so so blue,_ azure like the sky, and he looks so ridiculously adorable in that magenta hoodie. Riku's smile turns to a half-grin.

Sora disentangles their fingers to slide a warm hand across his cheek, fingers curling, and Riku leans into the touch, turns to press a kiss against the palm there. Then he tilts his head just a little and presses a soft kiss to Sora's lips instead, keeping his eyes half-open to see Sora's slip shut. He reaches up hands of his own, cupping the curve of Sora's jaw, one hand sliding into Sora's hair.

When Riku pulls back, they are both smiling, and as always, this intimacy that they share so effortlessly cancels out anything else he might be feeling. This is enough, just them in this fragile bubble. Soft smiles and warm hands and the way Sora always trembles a little under his touches.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Sora says, and Riku smiles, because not that long ago, Riku said the exact same words to him. “It's okay to be angry.”

“I know,” Riku says, because he does. He's taught Sora this, and Sora teaches him this, every time.

He leans back, letting his hands drop to his lap. He exhales deeply for eight seconds, holds for a few, and then slowly releases his breath.

“It’s also okay to feel joy,” Riku says with a private smile, a quick look up.

Sora leans back in his chair as well, nodding as he smiles back. “And it’s okay to love.”

“I do,” Riku says softly. “So so much.”

“I know,” Sora answers. “I do too.”

They look at each other for long moments, until Sora’s eyes widen, and he turns his head to look out of the front window. 

Riku follows his gaze and his smile widens. “It’s stopped raining.”

“I thought it would never stop!” 

Riku knows Sora means it as a hyperbole, but he snorts anyway. “Sora. No matter how long the rain falls, eventually the sun always comes out again.”

He pauses. It’s a fitting allegory.

Sora stands and takes the remaining teru teru bozu dolls in one hand, turning to reach out his other to Riku. “Come on. Let’s hang these up anyway.”

“Okay,” Riku takes his hand and lets himself be pulled up and towards the front door.

“We could even hang them upside down now,” Sora says with a sunny grin over his shoulder.

“Why?” Riku asks, tilting his head with a frown. 

“Because,” Sora says simply. "This was a good date.”

Riku chuckles. Once out on the porch, he can reach the wooden beam to hang the dolls from without standing on the rocking chair, so Sora hands them over one by one, watching as Riku hangs all of them (right-side up) next to the Sora and Riku dolls.

“Not upside down?” Sora asks.

“No,” Riku says with a smile. “Because I do wanna go to Neverland next time. You wondered if we could still fly, after everything. But I know we can. Because I feel like I can, whenever we’re together.”

Something warm twists in his stomach when he turns to look at Sora.

“Riku…”

“I'll prove it to you.” Riku steps back to admire their work, a family of keyblade wielders and guardians of light now dangling in the soft post-rain breeze.

Then he turns and looks towards the sky, at the familiar blue streaks peeking from between the grey clouds. Sora's hand slips into his as he leans into Riku’s side, and together they stand and watch the sun come out.

“Look!” Sora says, pointing to a spot above the trees in the distance. 

There’s a multicoloured arch against the remains of the grey sky, soft pastel colours reaching from the treetops on their right all the way into the ocean on their left. 

“A rainbow,” Riku whispers. “Fitting.”

“Yeah…” Sora breathes.

Riku knows they’re both still learning, still healing, every day. It's always been two steps forward, one step back. Every moment is a challenge, but every moment they overcome makes them _better_. They’re not there yet, but he knows they will be. 

Nothing is broken for good as long as they’ll get to fix it _together_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Sora and Riku on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fortheloveinyou)!!!


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